


Help for Heroes

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bernie Wolfe in Uniform, Established Relationship, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fundraising Events, Implied Sexual Content, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Past Bernie Wolfe/Marcus Dunn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon divergence: Bernie Wolfe and Serena Campbell meet for the first time at a fundraising event.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Help for Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bat_and_Breakfast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat_and_Breakfast/gifts).



> This is written to celebrate the birthday of the lovely Bat_and_Breakfast. I very much hope you enjoy it, hon!

“There you are, Darling. I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

Serena turns, a little startled by the warmth in the unfamiliar voice as a strong arm slides around her shoulders. She doesn’t recognise the woman with the blonde hair in a French twist and who’s wearing some sort of military dress uniform, but she plays along. 

“Well, I did wonder if you’d found someone more interesting to talk to,” she says, injecting warmth and humour into her voice as she ignores the man standing on her right.

“‘Darling?’” he repeats, sounding stunned. “Since when – How do you – What?”

Serena and her mystery rescuer both turn to look at the man next to her. “Something on your mind, Mr Dunn?” Serena asks in a tone of voice from which all warmth and humour has vanished.

“Since when have you been dating my wife?” he splutters.

“Your wife?” say both women simultaneously, which is something of a surprise to Serena. 

“ _Ex-wife_ , Marcus,” the blonde says in a scornful tone. “It’s been three years; you’d think you’d remember that by now.”

“What business is it of yours?” asks Serena. “You’re a locum on my ward. Nothing more. And I believe I’ve mentioned on multiple occasions that I am not interested in dating you, Mr Dunn. If you cannot accept that then I shall report you to HR for harassment.”

“Now hang on–” begins Dunn, sounding panicked.

“Piss off, Marcus,” the blonde says. “No one’s interested in you.”

He glowers at them both, then thankfully pisses off across the crowded room in the direction of the exit.

“Sorry about that,” Dunn’s ex-wife says. “Allow me to introduce myself.” She holds out a hand, having removed her arm from around Serena’s shoulders – to her disappointment. “Major Berenice Wolfe. Call me Bernie.” 

Serena shakes the proffered hand and notes that it, like her own, is rather dry. “Serena Campbell. Call me any time,” she says unthinkingly, then blushes when she realises just what she’s said.

Bernie grins, her gaze raking up and down Serena’s figure in a thoroughly appreciative manner. “I’d be delighted to, Serena.” She glances over at the bartender and nods, getting a nod in return. “In the meantime, why don’t we take our drinks somewhere quieter and get to know each other better?”

“Well, I can hardly say no, not after the performance you just put on.”

Bernie smirks, eyes dancing with mirth, and Serena feels her knees buckle a bit. _This woman is dangerous_ , she thinks, deciding, _I think I want this dangerous woman in my life._

A dangerous woman would certainly be more exciting than the dull, rather plodding Marcus Dunn, or indeed any of the three previous men in Serena’s life.

Their drinks arrive, and Serena’s both surprised and impressed that Bernie’s got her a bottle of Shiraz without being asked, while she herself is sporting a tumbler of whisky.

“C’mon,” Bernie murmurs, her hand at the small of Serena’s back. “I know just the spot.”

Serena lets herself be guided across the crowded ballroom and through a door that’s hidden behind a curtain into a much smaller room that looks like a lounge. “You’ve been here before,” she notes as Bernie guides her to sit on a sofa near the fireplace.

“A couple of times,” Bernie says. “Since I got promoted to Major, I always seem to get picked to come to the local Help for Heroes fundraiser. I haven’t seen you here before, though.”

“I haven’t been before,” Serena admits, watching as Bernie pours her a generous measure of Shiraz. “It’s usually Henrik Hanssen, the hospital’s CEO, who attends. But he’s away, so as deputy CEO I got deputised.”

Bernie chuckles, then lifts her tumbler towards Serena’s glass. “Here’s to new friends.”

“New friends,” Serena agrees, clinking her glass against Bernie’s. “And thank you for the rescue.”

Bernie takes a sip of her drink, then shakes her head, and Serena notes that a few stray wisps of her hair have escaped from her French twist. She has to strenuously resist the urge to reach out and brush them back. 

“Marcus is an ass,” Bernie says. “I seriously doubt he’d have tried it on, not in a crowd. But I’ll always do my best to spare other women the advances of my ex.” She smiles mischievously. “Besides, it’s fun to piss him off. He’s never forgiven me for coming out and divorcing him. And of course, he hates to be upstaged by a woman, and I am a far better surgeon than he is.”

“That’s why I know your name!” Serena exclaims, delighted to have worked it out. “I’ve been reading your articles on trauma surgery in _The Lancet_ and _The BMJ_ for years. I’ve even used a couple of your techniques a time or two.”

Bernie’s face pinks, especially along her cheekbones which, like her collarbones, look delicious enough to nibble on, Serena notices. 

“Well, Ms Campbell, I’ve successfully used your pioneering vascular procedures on more than one of my patients. Saved many a squaddie’s hand, arm or leg, they have.”

Serena flushes with pleasure. “Glad to have helped, however indirectly,” she says.

They drink and talk for more than two hours and Serena thinks she might be falling in love with Berenice Wolfe, Major in the RAMC, and altogether too dashing trauma surgeon.

By the time they’ve finished the bottle of Shiraz, Serena’s realising that she should have thought to book a room in the hotel for the night. She’s just thinking that she should call a taxi when Bernie reaches out and brushes the pad of her thumb across Serena’s wine-stained lips.

“Serena,” she says, her low, husky voice doing things to Serena’s insides, making them squirm pleasantly. “May I kiss you?”

She decides to take the direct route and leans in to kiss that tantalising mouth. The kiss quickly becomes heated and it’s only the dire need for oxygen that causes Serena to break away, reluctant though she is to abandon those supple, clever lips.

“I’ve got a room booked upstairs,” Bernie says, sounding a little shy. “Would you – I mean, I don’t want to presume, but–”

“Take me upstairs, Berenice,” Serena says silkily, and Bernie groans, then pushes to her feet. She gathers up the jacket she’d discarded earlier, then holds out her other hand to Serena, who allows herself to be drawn to her feet, then reeled in for another scorching kiss. Her hands roam up and down strong, well-muscled arms and across an equally strong and muscled back.

“I can hardly wait to see you out of your clothes,” she murmurs against Bernie’s right ear, then begins to move towards the door, and Bernie follows, their fingers again entwined.

They make their way to the reception desk to collect Bernie’s key, then take the lift up the four floors to her room. Serena feels as if there are a thousand butterflies dancing in her belly, but the naked desire in Bernie’s eyes as they gaze at each while in the lift warms her and, surprisingly, gradually calms her.

Bernie swipes the keycard and lets them into her room, then hangs the Do Not Disturb sign on the door before locking it behind her.

“I just want you to know,” Bernie says, her mouth hot on Serena’s skin as she kisses along her jaw. “That I’m not in the habit of picking women up in hotel bars.”

“And I want you to know that I haven’t slept with another woman for about ten years.”

Bernie chuckles hotly against her ear, her warm breath making Serena shudder, her arms breaking out in goosebumps. “Don’t worry, love, nothing’s changed in the interim.”

“Silly goose,” Serena says, stepping back a little. “Let’s get you out of that uniform,” she adds, after admiring the fine female figure before her.

“I can’t wait to get you out of that dress,” Bernie says, practically growling the words. “I bet you look just as gorgeous out of it as you do in it.”

Serena feels herself blush at the other woman’s words. “If you want to talk about gorgeous women,” she says. “We should talk about you.”

Bernie huffs a laugh. “I’m passably handsome,” she says.

Serena begins stripping her of her clothes. “Whoever told you that is a bloody liar,” she declares fiercely as she gets Bernie’s dress shirt unfastened. “God, I could just eat you up.”

“That can be arranged,” Bernie says with a wolfish grin.

**Eighteen months later**

“Have you heard?”

Fletch’s words startle Serena out of her pre-caffeine daze as she stands in line at Pulses waiting to get her morning coffee and a ‘medicinal’ pain au chocolat. She’s in on her day off because she has too much admin to do to be able to stay home.

“Heard what?” she asks him as the line shuffles forward.

“Some military bigwig’s been flown in overnight after being blown up. She’s in theatre on Darwin.”

Serena stares, then does something she hasn’t done since she was a schoolgirl and runs across to the lift, ignoring Fletch’s shout and the queue of people waiting to be served who are all staring. All the way up to Darwin Serena fidgets with her pendant and paces the small space of the lift car. She has no idea why she’s assuming it’s Bernie who’s been airlifted to Holby – she just has some sixth sense that insists she go and find out one way or the other. 

She and Bernie had enjoyed a fantastic night together after the Help for Heroes fundraiser, neither one of them getting much sleep, and after a luxurious breakfast in bed, they’d enjoyed themselves for another couple of hours before finally showering, getting dressed and parting company. Bernie’s been home on leave twice and spent her leave with Serena on both occasions, and she’s received the occasional letter or parcel from Afghanistan. She hasn’t written back as Bernie wouldn’t give Serena her address for ‘security reasons’, she’d explained, but they’ve had multiple conversations via text messages, and they had even Face Timed one another at Christmas.

The lift finally arrives on the sixth floor and Serena’s through the doors before they’re barely open wide enough, then she crosses to the nurses’ station and asks, somewhat breathlessly, “Who was the military person who’s been brought in?”

Zosia March gives her a surprised look. “Ms Campbell. Are you alright?” She circles around the desk to stand beside Serena, her surprise now turning to concern. “You look–”

“Please, Doctor March,” Serena says, apologetic but also frantic. “Who was airlifted in overnight?”

“A Major Wolfe,” Zosia says, then reaches out to wrap an arm around Serena as she sags against the desk. “Come on, let’s get you into the consultant’s office.” 

Serena lets the young woman guide her across the ward and into the office where she is settled in a visitor’s chair. A moment later a bottle of water is pressed into her hand and she scrabbles uselessly with the cap before Zosia takes pity on her and cracks it open, before passing the bottle back. She remains crouching in front of Serena, watching her intently as she manages, somewhat shakily, to drink some of the water.

“I take it you know Major Wolfe?” Zosia asks and Serena nods, then swallows before answering.

“We’ve been together for about eighteen months. Please, Doctor March, tell me she’s okay?”

“Well,” Zosia says slowly. “She came in with an unstable C5/C6 spinal fracture with a traumatised cervical disc in the same area, and a pseudoaneurysm in the right ventricle. Mr Self and Mr Valentine are operating at present.”

“Do we know what happened?”

“Apparently the vehicle she was travelling in encountered a roadside IED. According to her notes from the RAMC, the driver spotted the IED too late and although she tried to swerve to avoid it, it exploded, and the vehicle rolled and ended up upside down in a poppy field.” 

Serena tries not to show her horror at this news, nor at Bernie’s condition: with spinal injuries like those she could easily wind up paralysed from the neck down or even dead. “What time did she come in?”

“Around 4am. We had to get her stabilised before they could operate as her BP dropped quite dramatically after they got her here and she was also severely tachycardic for a time.” Zosia checks the time. “I’m expecting them to be done any minute, actually. Why don’t you wait here until they come out and ask them how she is?”

“Thank you, Doctor March.”

Serena doesn’t have long to wait before Self and Valentine appear, both looking more than a little weary, and she pushes herself to her feet as Zosia explains to Guy Self why Serena’s there. He gives her a rather disdainful look, but thankfully he does answer her question when she asks how Bernie is.

“She came through,” Self says. “The pseudoaneurysm ruptured before I was through with the disc repair and Valentine had to manually restart her heart while she was on the table. But she’s survived. She’ll be feeling weak for a while and she’ll need quite a lot of rehab before she can go back to work, but I’m confident she’ll make a good recovery.” 

“Thank you,” Serena says, trying not to sag with relief. 

He nods, then walks away, and Serena lets Zosia led her through to where Bernie’s lying in the recovery area.

“Do you want me to stay?” Zosia asks in a low voice, despite the fact that Bernie’s still sleeping off the anaesthetic. 

Serena shakes her head. “No, thank you. You get on. I’m only staying for a bit.”

Zosia nods, then leaves Serena with Bernie. She reaches out and takes the other woman’s left hand in her own.

“Hello, you,” she says softly, caressing Bernie’s knuckles with her thumb. “You know, if you wanted to see me, there were other, more conventional ways to achieve it than getting yourself blown up, you goose.” She sighs. “I suspect it’s going to be all over the hospital about us soon. When Fletch told me in the queue for Pulses that ‘some military bigwig’, as he put it, had been flown in, I panicked and ran for the lift.” She lifts Bernie’s hand and bending her head, presses her lips to the back of the hand in her own.

“Very undignified behaviour for a senior consultant,” rasps a voice to her right and Serena jerks upright in shock and delight.

“You’re awake!”

Bernie grimaces and Serena can’t tell if it’s because she’s in pain or if it’s because she just stated the obvious. “I am. Just about.”

“I’ll call a nurse.”

“Give me a moment. Please?” Bernie looks at her pleadingly and Serena is reminded, forcibly, of a puppy.

“And what will you do with such a moment?” she asks, aiming for a light, teasing tone. 

“Why drink you in, of course.”

Serena chuckles. “Very smooth, Major.” She shakes her head. “Barely five minutes out of surgery, too. You’re incorrigible Major Berenice Griselda Wolfe.”

Bernie groans. “You know I hate it when you full name me.”

Serena grins, then shuffles closer and leans in to press her lips so briefly, so chastely, against Bernie’s. She notes the bandage on the right side of her neck and the top of another just peeking from the top of her surgical gown and hopes that Bernie’s eventual scars won’t make her self conscious. 

“Behave yourself, Major.”

“Promise,” Bernie says.

“Good. I’ll get the nurse in here.”

“Okay.” 

Serena calls in a nurse, and steps back outside to give Bernie some privacy. She’s still hovering outside when Hanssen appears, almost out of thin air, it seems.

“Ms Campbell.”

“Mr Hanssen.” She watches as he peers through the glass doors of the HDU, then says, “She’s my partner.”

He looks back at her. “So I had gathered from the hospital gossip machine.” He gives her a fleeting smile. “I believe, Ms Campbell, that you have some holiday days accrued.”

She blinks at him, taking a moment to process this. “I have,” she agrees.

He nods. “Mr Griffin is covering your ward today since it is your day off.” He raises one eyebrow at her, and she snorts.

“Paperwork, Henrik.”

“Quite. I will ask Mr Griffin to continue to cover AAU for the next few days while I get in a locum. Do not worry, I will not be re-employing Mr Dunn during this time. I cannot imagine either you or Ms Wolfe would appreciate him being in the hospital.”

“Thank you, Henrik.”

He nods. “You have a week’s leave accrued. If you need more time off than that, come and see me, and we’ll work something out.”

Serena has to bite her bottom lip to stop it from trembling, then she nods. “Thank you very much, Henrik.” 

“I wish Ms Wolfe a speedy recovery,” he says, then nods before walking away, just as the nurse opens the door to the HDU and gives Serena a smile.

“She’s all yours.”

“Thank you, Clarissa.” Serena slips past the younger woman, smiling at Bernie as she returns to her seat at her bedside. “How are you feeling?” she asks tenderly, taking Bernie’s hand in her own again.

“Like someone blew me up,” Bernie says.

Serena rolls her eyes. “Goose,” she says fondly.

“I am not going to laugh,” Bernie tells her.

“I should hope not,” Serena says, horrified at the idea. “You need to stay quietly in your bed and let the staff of Darwin look after you.” 

“What about you?” Bernie asks. “Don’t you have to get back to AAU?”

Serena smiles. “No. Today’s actually my day off – I came in to deal with a stack of admin that’s built up. And I’ve just been speaking to Hanssen, the CEO. He’s told me that I should use up the week’s worth of leave I have accrued, and he’ll get a locum in to cover AAU. And if I need more time off after that, then I only have to ask.”

“But you hate having locums on AAU,” Bernie says, sounding astonished – as well she might, given that Serena has, indeed, previously moaned about locums on her beloved ward.

She snorts. “As if I care about that when you’re injured.”

“I can go back to my flat when I’m discharged. Hire an agency nurse to help out.”

“Well, if you prefer to have the assistance of a stranger instead of that of the woman who loves you, then by all means hire an agency nurse.” She starts to pull her hand away, but Bernie tightens her grip on it.

“Serena, that isn’t what I meant. Please believe me. I know how hard you’ve fought for AAU and I don’t want to make your life difficult by you having to deal with whatever mess a locum might leave behind in your absence.” Bernie lifts Serena’s hand and brushes her lips against the back of it. “I love you dearly,” she whispers. “And it would be a relief to have you caring for me. But please don’t feel obliged.”

“It’s not an obligation,” Serena says. “I promise you.”

“Very well.” Bernie gives her a tired smile, and Serena leans in to brush her lips against her lover’s.

“You need to get some rest, love,” she says softly.

“Mmm. Tired,” Bernie agrees, abruptly sounding half asleep. “Love you, S’r’na.”

“Love you, too.” 

Moments later Bernie’s fast asleep again. 

**Two months later**

“It’s a good job you’ve got me to drive you around,” Serena says humorously as she helps Bernie out of her car. Seeing her lover’s raised eyebrows, she elaborates: “You’d struggle to get in and out of your ridiculous toy car.”

“Oi,” Bernie protests mildly. “Don’t diss the Mazda.”

Serena snorts. “It’s a toy car,” she repeats in a teasing tone, then leans in and presses her mouth to Bernie’s, capturing it in a heated kiss.

“My, my, Ms Campbell,” Bernie says, her cheekbones flushed a delightful pink. “Whatever happened to not feeding the hospital rumour mill?”

“Sod the rumour mill,” Serena says pleasantly. “I don’t care if the entire world knows that I love you and that I’m very proud of how fast a recovery you’ve made from what were life threatening injuries.” She presses another, more chaste, kiss to Bernie’s lips. “And I want everyone to know you’re already taken.”

Bernie chuckles at that, then moves away from the car, one hand held securely in Serena’s, the other holding firmly to her silver wolf’s head-topped walking cane: Serena’s gift. “Mighty possessive of you, Ms Campbell,” she says teasingly.

“You’d better believe it,” Serena agrees heartily.

They stop off at Pulses for coffee and a medicinal pain au chocolat each, then make their way to AAU and into the now shared consultants’ office. Bernie sits in one of the visitor’s chairs alongside Serena’s desk while they consume their coffee and pastries, and they discuss the day ahead as the night shift winds to a close and the staff on the day shift begin to arrive.

Then Fletch sticks his head around the door. “Ms Campbell. Ms Wolfe. Everyone’s here now.”

“Thanks Fletch,” Serena says and gets to her feet. She helps Bernie up, and they make their way onto the ward, shoulders and arms brushing against each other, but their hands kept firmly separate.

“Gather around everyone, please,” Serena calls, and once the staff are in a loose semi circle around the nurses’ station, she greets them. “Good morning. I’d like to introduce you to Major Bernie Wolfe, retired. She is joining AAU today as my co-lead. As Ms Wolfe is still recovering from injuries she sustained in the line of duty two months ago, she will mostly only be observing ward rounds and will not be carrying out any surgery until she’s been cleared for that duty.” 

There’s a brief murmur, then silence falls again. “In addition, Ms Wolfe will be drawing up plans for a Trauma Unit here on AAU. As many of you will be aware, I’ve been trying to persuade the Board to agree to fund a dedicated Trauma Unit of at least one bay on AAU for some time and now that Ms Wolfe has joined us, they have finally agreed that it would be a waste not to take advantage of the knowledge and expertise of the country’s foremost front-line trauma surgeon now that we have it at our disposal.”

The murmur is a bit louder and more sustained this time. “Alright, everyone, get to work, please.”

The staff disperse, and Serena follows Bernie back into their office where they settle at their desks.

“I’d never pegged you for someone who likes giving speeches,” Bernie says, eyes dancing with mischief.

“What do you mean?” Serena asks, one eyebrow raised.

“I mean that I might have to start calling you ‘Fräulein’ after that little display.” Serena’s eyebrow remains raised and Bernie chuckles. “You don’t think it was a bit Nuremberg-y, do you?” she teases.

“Oi, less of your cheek, you,” Serena says, glaring half-heartedly at her lover.

Bernie chuckles again. “Yes Commandant.”

A throat is cleared from the doorway, and the two women look up, startled, to see Henrik Hanssen giving them a half smile. 

“Good morning, Henrik,” Serena says, wondering uneasily just how long he’s been standing there.

“Good morning, Ms Campbell,” he says. He turns towards Bernie and steps into the office. “Welcome to Holby City General Hospital, Major Wolfe.” He holds out a hand. 

“Thank you, Mr Hanssen.” She shakes his hand, then says, “But you know, properly speaking, you should refer to me as ‘Ms Wolfe’ now that I’m a civilian.”

“As you wish.” He smiles again. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.” Bernie nods. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll look forward to your Trauma Unit proposal in due course.”

“I’ll get it to you as soon as possible,” Bernie promises.

“Thank you.” He nods at Serena. “Ms Campbell.”

“Henrik.”

He goes out and they look at each other, barely suppressing their mirth until Serena hears the distinctive sound of the lift, then she starts laughing and Bernie joins in, her ‘goose honk’ as Serena’s dubbed it, making her laugh even harder.

Eventually their laughter dies down and they exchange fond smiles before settling down to begin the day’s work.


End file.
